Deep Magic - Fourth Collection (Deep Magic collections) by VA

Author:VA [VA]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amberlin
Published: 2021-02-22T23:00:00+00:00

8. The Voice Awakened

He woke gasping. Sweet, chilly air flooded his throat and lungs, birthing a peculiar kind of ecstasy unique to survival. Tears rendered his vision a liquid blur of blue and black that cleared as he wept, shame and relief rising in equal measure. When the last tear fell, he found himself staring at the pale oval of Lyvia’s face.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had to.”

She sat close to him on a ledge he recognised from their ascent to the Eyrie, Shamil guessing they were about halfway to the bottom. Vintress was perched on an outcrop some yards away, beak and talons busily rending a goat carcass to pieces. Lyvia coughed when he gave no response, forcing a weak smile as she turned to her bird. “She’s so fast. Hard to believe a living creature could move so swiftly . . .”

“You should have let me fall.” He spoke in a flat tone, lacking accusation or force, but still, he saw how deep the words stung her.

“I couldn’t . . .” She shivered, hugging herself tight, keeping her gaze averted. “I’ve seen too many friends die, Shamil. Stood and watched and did nothing as they were led to the gallows, one by one. All my friends. Girls I laughed with when we played as children, gossiped with as we grew older. Boys I bickered with constantly and, as childhood faded, would sometimes kiss, only to bicker even more.”

A smile of fond recollection passed over her face, but it faded quickly. “They all died,” she went on. “And I watched, standing at my family’s side on the balcony overlooking the great square in Mira-Vielle, even though I was just as guilty as they. I watched them all die the traitor’s death. I told you some of it before, but not all.

“The Revenantist cult rose and fell, as I said, but its fall birthed an idea amongst the nobility’s youth. We were a commendably earnest lot in some respects, filled with righteous anger at our families and their endless hoarding of power and wealth. Of course, some amongst us revelled in their privilege, whilst others hearkened to our expensive lessons and the many books we read. There was a boy . . .” She lowered her face, her expression alternating between the sadness and remembered joy Shamil knew came only from recalling a lost love. “A young man, Crucio. My young man, in fact. He was the only person I met who had read more books than I, and the only one who looked upon this face and saw more than just the image of a vanished legend. He burned with a need for change, a desire to sweep away the corruption and inequality that surrounded us. We would feed the poor, give succour to the sick and the helpless, but to do that we would need to learn from the success and failures of the Revenantists. They had promised salvation in Sharrow-Met’s return, but that had never come. But we, the heralds of a new age, could make it happen, in me.

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